


Phone Home

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:32:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had to ask Cas to go, but Cas didn't have to go far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phone Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tundraeternal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tundraeternal/gifts).



> I needed this after 9.03.
> 
> For Lily, who had a bad day.
> 
> Thanks to Kristin/tamryneradani for the beta :)

“Listen, buddy, you can’t stay.”

Dean’s words are soft, hesitant, but they cut through Cas like a knife to the heart. For a moment he can’t breathe, overwhelmed by what he’s sure must be his heart seizing in his chest.

There are tears in Dean’s eyes, a far-off part of him realizes. This isn’t easy for anyone. 

 _But why would they want me here,_ he thinks dully. _I’m not an angel. I can’t protect them anymore._  

A tiny, traitorous voice responds, _Because Dean is your friend. Because he said you’re family._

He opens his mouth to respond, to say, _I understand,_ but nothing comes out except a shattered, “Dean...”

Dean swallows and glances behind him at the empty room. “Cas, I–” he swallows again, running a rough hand across his face. “I’m sorry. I wish– It’s just not safe.” He finally meets Cas’s eyes and holds his gaze for a moment before something breaks in his eyes and he lets out a strangled, “ _Fuck,_ ” and leans closer, sliding into the chair beside Cas. “Fuck. I can’t– Cas, it’s not you, it’s– _shit._ ” He buries his face in his hands, voice muffled through his palms. “It’s Zeke, Cas.”

“Zeke?” Cas finds himself sliding closer, trying to hear Dean with his weak, human ears .

Dean snorts a little. “Ezekiel. He’s, uh, he’s in Sam.”

Cas looks up, startled from his misery. “ _In_ Sam? He’s taken Sam as a vessel?”

“Yeah.” Dean raises his head from his hands, face worried and drawn and damp around the eyes. “He said he could fix Sam. From the inside.”

“I suppose– I suppose that’s possible,” Cas replies thoughtfully. “Yes,” he smiles slightly. “Yes, if Ezekiel has his grace intact, that could help both of them.”

“Yeah?” There’s hope in Dean’s eyes when he catches Cas’s gaze again. “You think it could work?” He shakes his head and lets out a long breath, shoulders sliding down from around his ears and his eyes wide and vulnerable.

Cas nods.

“But–” Dean’s tense again and Cas wishes he could do something to bring that relief back to Dean’s face. “But he says it’s too dangerous, having you here. That– that if you stay, he’ll leave. And Sam–” his voice cracks. “Sam will die, Cas. And I can’t–” He leans his head back, squeezing his eyes shut and letting out a huff, and Cas realizes he’s holding back the tears that are glittering in his eyes. “Cas, he’s _Sam._ If it were anyone else–”

“I know, Dean.” His hand reaches out of its own volition and settles hesitantly on Dean’s forearm. “I understand. Sam comes first.” He pushes his chair back, about to stand, when Dean’s arm turns under his hand and he grasps Cas’s wrist, a hot band against flesh Cas hasn’t been able to keep quite warm enough. “Cas–”

Cas slows, staring at the hand on him for a moment before turning to Dean. His breath stutters at the intensity in Dean’s eyes and he freezes.

“Don’t– don’t go far, okay? And keep your phone on. You’re still– you’re still family. And I can’t– I don’t want to lose you again. Ever.”

There’s a moment where Cas feels like anything could happen, possibilities spiraling out for him and for Dean, but it snaps when footsteps sound in the hallway. Dean drops Cas’s arm in a slow slide, fingertips brushing Cas’s own, and stands as well. “There’s a motel in town. I’ll get you set up with some cash and ID and stuff.” He halts. “Cas, I’m– I’m glad you’re all right.” He holds out a hand, hovering over Cas’s shoulder for a second before dropping to rest against the cotton of Cas’s freshly laundered shirt.

Cas hasn’t been human for long, but he has learned a few things. And Dean’s lingering hand on his shoulder isn’t enough. He steps closer and wraps Dean in a tight hug before the hunter can object. Dean freezes a moment, then holds him back just as tightly. He buries his face in Cas’s neck and Cas feels his warm breath against his collarbone and wetness against his scruff. “It’s all right, Dean,” he whispers. “Sam will be all right.”

Dean pulls away slightly, lifting his face. “And– Cas, what about you? You gonna be okay?”

Cas nods. “Dean. I’ll be fine.” His mouth quirks up into a smile. “I’ve been human for weeks. And I’ll be just a few miles away.”

\-----

THREE WEEKS LATER

_“Cas?”_

The phone is warm in his hands, plugged into its charger where he places it every night after his shift at the library. His documents from Dean had included not only ID but references and a resume, and he’d been able to get a position shelving books three days a week, enough to cover the rent on the tiny apartment he’d found just a few miles from the bunker. 

_“Dean.”_

Dean calls him almost every day. It’s not always at night; it depends on when he can get away from Sam and Ezekiel and everyone else long enough to check in, but by midnight each day they’ve exchanged at least a text or two.

_“You can– you can come home now.”_

Cas doesn’t have a car. It’s not that he couldn’t afford one: Dean had left him with a stack of bills large enough to get him just about anything he needs. But if he had one, the temptation to go home–go to the bunker, that is–would be too great. As it is, he finds himself walking down familiar roads on his days off, hovering on the edge of town and fighting the urge to catch just a glimpse of Dean or Sam or the Impala or even just the bunker’s front door.

_“I– let me pack my bags. I’ll be there soon.”_

He doesn’t have much, but what he has is his own. It’s the first time he’s had _things_ , really. He’s always had his angel blade, that’s true, but it was more a part of him than a possession. And the coat and tie? Those were Jimmy’s, not his.

_“Cas–”_

But now he has clothes, and a box of books, and a pile of stones and leaves that decorate the mantle of his living room. He’s not going to leave them behind. He stacks his box of books on his clothing crate and sweeps his little collection into a smaller box and carries them to the door, swinging it open. It’s not so heavy that he can’t carry it; though, it may take him a while to make it all the way to the bunker.

“Cas.”

Cas freezes for a moment, then sets the boxes down carefully.

It’s been weeks since he’s seen Dean’s face, heard his voice in anything other than the tinny tones of his cell phone.

“Dean.”

The Impala’s there too, glistening in the sunlight that’s slipping over the hills west of town, and Cas blinks away the moisture that’s suddenly in his eyes. 

Dean steps forward, carefully, and lets out a wet chuckle. “Nice place you got here.”

Cas nods, unable to speak.

Dean moves suddenly, stepping forward with a muttered. “ _Christ,”_ and pulling Cas hard against him. He breathes in deep as Cas’s arms come up and around him and buries a hand in Cas’s hair while the other clutches at his waist. Cas breathes in deep, the smell of pie and leather and _Dean_ and _home._

“Come on,” Dean mumbles into his ear. “Let’s go home.”


End file.
